


A Tale in Three Courses (Plus One)

by flybynight



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, Food Porn, M/M, Marathon Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flybynight/pseuds/flybynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred would probably quit this weird job if he were working for anyone else. Too bad he's far too smitten with his employer to really care. Mostly.  UK/US/UK</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no excuse for this one. Just your run-of-the-mill maid falls in love with his/her employer deal. I've seen it done with Arthur as a butler or maid, so I wanted to try something different and have it in the reverse. I also just wanted to write all my favorite kinks into one fic. Well, not all, but quite a few of them. Main pairing is mostly UKUS with some USUK near the end. Lots of ridiculous smut (and unrealistic refractory periods! :D), crossdressing, some food play, and Alfred and Arthur being awkward dorks, as per usual. This monster has been my pet project that I actually finished forever ago, but I've been hesitant to post because it's kinda sorta embarrassing, hah. Hopefully someone enjoys it. Thanks for reading!

Though he was the one who agreed to do this job in the first place, there were times Alfred couldn't believe what he was doing. Moments he even second guessed himself-- something he had never, ever done before in his life. He couldn't understand how things had come to this, despite having lived it. And he had been the one to agree to it, yes. He had to remind himself of that as he stepped out of his room to start his day, wearing a frilly maid's uniform, stockings, heels, and the most adorable headpiece with ribbons (well, personally he didn't think it was very adorable since he was the one who had to wear it, but that was neither here nor there).

But really, the rewards and perks weren't _so_ bad. He could have been doing a lot worse. His second guessing and doubts were in regard to his sense of fashion lately, nothing else. This was because, despite his ridiculous excuse for a uniform, everything else about the job he liked. Quite a bit. Particularly his handsome, though slightly neurotic employer. Arthur Kirkland, the man who had moved to New York all the way from London for his company and had hired him from a poorly written classifieds ad that Alfred never thought anyone would consider-- he could be a real pill, but Alfred found it kind of attractive sometimes. Which was interesting, considering Arthur had called Alfred much the same thing (a pill, mind you, but also attractive), and he seemed to like him just as much. Life was funny sometimes.

He sighed as he half-wobbled down the long hallway and towards the staircase, still a little tired and not quite steady on his feet yet. He still needed to prepare breakfast and collect the morning newspaper for his "master", who had asked him to wake him a little later that morning instead of his usual 6AM routine--even on weekends. Arthur had changed his routine in lieu of taking a rare day off, and Alfred hadn't minded at all, as he'd been able to sleep in for once.

He collected the paper from the front steps, pleased that no one was walking about outside, though it wasn't as though anyone would see him anyway, what with the massive yard and the giant gates. They'd more than likely need a pair of binoculars.

Taking the paper inside, he went to the kitchen, pondering briefly over what to prepare. Arthur liked basically the same thing every morning-- two poached eggs, a fresh scone with only a bit of jam or clotted cream, and a cup of Earl Grey. No more, no less was required, though there were a few times Alfred had thought to sneak a piece of bacon on his plate just to give it a bit more color. Today he decided to be "adventurous" and surprise him, since today was so different anyway, so he made an easy classic-- pancakes. Alfred was no five star chef, but he could certainly hold his own in the kitchen, and he'd perfected the art of pancakes from a young age, having grown up with a younger brother who couldn't live without them. He even went through the trouble of making them small enough that Arthur couldn't accuse him of trying to fatten him up or anything ridiculous. He avoided making them in hilarious shapes, tempting though it was. Most likely the humor would be lost on Arthur upon first waking up. 

Placing everything on a tray, along with a piping hot cup of tea that Alfred had to wrinkle his nose at, he knocked three times on the door before pushing his way in carefully.

"Good morning, Artie, I brought your breakfast!" he chirped into the still dim room. There came a slight groan from the bed, but Alfred ignored it, whistling a bit as he made his way over to the windows and threw open the curtains. Sunshine and the meticulously well-kept and clean Kirkland estate greeted him in all its vast beauty, the best of all being the lush rose garden just beneath the window. He turned around, watching as Arthur sat up with another muttered noise that could have been acknowledgement or protest, but it didn't really matter.

Alfred carried the tray over to the large king size bed, but thanks to his stupid shoes he nearly dumped it all over the half-awake man's lap. Luckily he caught himself and managed to set it down as neatly as possible. Only a single drop of the tea managed to make it over the rim, and the younger man deftly swiped it away with him thumb before Arthur's eyes adjusted. He lifted it up to his mouth reflexively just as the other looked up at him, green eyes blinking through blonde lashes as he stared at Alfred's mouth.

"What time is it," he asked flatly.

Alfred glanced at his wrists, remembering he no longer wore a watch, in favor of lacy arm braces to compliment his ridiculous outfit. He glanced over at the ornate clock sitting on the nightstand.

"Oh, ah, 9:30! Just like you asked."

"Mmph."

Alfred gestured to the tray of food. "Breakfast for ya. I made pancakes today."

Arthur stared at it, then back up at him. "So much butter and sugar at this hour of the morning?"

The young man frowned a bit. Only Arthur would have something against _pancakes_. And after he'd worked so hard to prepare them!

"They're legitimate breakfast food, dude--" At Arthur's (rather formidable, even so early) glare, he corrected himself with a slight snicker "--sir. They're real good, I promise!"

Arthur just gave him another look that didn't invoke confidence in his cooking abilities, so Alfred just pouted a bit and folded his arms, watching him right back until his employer sighed and picked up his fork. He delicately cut out a little triangle with more coordination than Alfred expected of him after just waking up, but it was very rare that Arthur did anything without the utmost preciseness. He dipped the edge of it sparingly in a dollop of syrup at the edge of his plate before lifting it up to his lips. Alfred leaned forward unconsciously.

Slowly he placed it in his mouth, chewed once. Twice. Three times. Swallowed.

Alfred knew he looked uncharacteristically hopeful, but he couldn't help himself. "Well?"

Arthur responded by running his tongue sensually over the prongs of the fork, causing his servant to swallow audibly.

"It could be worse."

Hunching over, Alfred sighed exaggeratedly, but sat back as Arthur cut out another little piece and began to eat. That really was just his master's way, pretending not to like something just for the hell of it. Alfred knew it had to taste like heaven in comparison to most things the former English patriot had tasted, especially things that he had made himself before hiring Alfred. The man couldn't cook to save his life. He had hemmed and hawed the first few weeks of Alfred being there to cook for him, but Alfred knew if he really hated it, he would have hired a separate cook. Lord knew he had the money.

By the time he had finished and was halfway through savoring his first cup of tea for the day, Alfred felt a bit restless. But that was also normal, considering he wasn't allowed to leave the room until Arthur was finished with breakfast, unless he was ordered to, which was almost never. Alfred squirmed a bit in his seat next to Arthur's legs as he waited for the orders he knew were coming. Arthur continued to look composed and calm, as if enjoying the morning and the haze of wakefulness finally settling over him. But Alfred knew better.

Finally, the man set his utensil down and dabbed primly at the corners of his mouth with a napkin before placing it onto his empty plate, a sign that he was finished. Alfred took the tray and placed it on a nearby table, his movements slow as he heard the brief rustle of sheets and Arthur clear his throat.

"Come here, love."

Alfred took a deep breath and turned back around, his big hands reflexively twisting together, a nervous habit he had at times, particularly when faced with the wolfish sort of expression Arthur wore around him quite often. He walked over, the heels on his feet nearly causing him to topple over yet again, which would be horribly embarrassing and there'd be no way to salvage his pride after something like that. Before his knees met the bed, Arthur was reaching up, sliding his long arms about Alfred's waist and pulling him down into his lap, right where the breakfast tray had been moments before.

"I take it breakfast was okay then...?" Alfred asked, smiling a bit and feeling kind of silly as his cheeks started to flush. Arthur had his hands on his thighs as he stared at him.

"Quite. You did very well," Arthur responded, almost as an afterthought as he leaned forward, nose brushing along Alfred's neck and the silk ribbon that pressed against his Adam's apple uncomfortably when he swallowed. His heart was fluttering wildly in his chest, as it was wont to do during these times.

Arthur turned his face towards him, pressing their lips together in a soft but deep kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Alfred's lips until he opened for him with a soft noise. His master tasted like syrup, bitter tea that had steeped just a little too long, and a bit of morning mouth, but it was never as bad as he always expected it to be. And the syrup helped quite a bit-- he couldn't help the way he licked his own lips when Arthur pulled back first, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched Alfred do so.

"And how is my adorable little maid today, hm?" he asked, making Alfred's blush worsen. He wasn't sure if it was from the flattery or (admittedly, feigned) anger.

"I'm not little! ..Or adorable. I wish you wouldn't say that," the "maid" complained, looking a bit huffy, which naturally did not help his cause, not that he was really trying to fight anything.

"Quite right, you're certainly not 'little' by any means," Arthur oh so ceremoniously agreed, still petting Alfred's thigh, "but I rather like your size... And I'm sorry dear, if you were any more adorable, I'm afraid you'd be in danger of me eating you up."

Oh, he'd heard _that_ one before. And Arthur had a way of eating him up, and did so often, so he didn't know why he bothered to say such a thing. And his size? His master made it known, almost every time they did this, that he liked Alfred just the way he was. It was shameful the way Alfred looked forward to hearing it again and again, so he pretended to be annoyed and insulted, as that was the role he was meant to play, and Arthur seemed to enjoy trying to convince him otherwise.

It was all part of the game between them. A game with unwritten rules.

"What would you have me call you then, poppet?" Arthur continued, fingertips skimming over the frilled edges of his skirt. Alfred pretended to think about it.

"I'm your big, manly, hero?" he said after a moment, which earned him a flat look. He just grinned, even as he shifted in Arthur's lap, careful not to let the shoes catch in the sheets as he moved, straddling the other man with one leg on either side of him.

"Hm. It doesn't have quite the same ring to it... But I'll let you have it. In your dreams," his master murmured, pleased to have him in the position he was. Alfred was easy to get in his lap, it was never a surprise, but they were moving quickly already. He realized, as he felt one of Arthur's hands slide up the back of his thigh, he didn't want to play around too much.

"You're too kind, sir," he finally replied, with only a slight hitch in his breath as he felt that hand glide over the curve of his buttocks, and he betrayed nothing in his expression as fingers twisted and curled around the ribbon thong panties he was sporting underneath.

However, when that hand moved to the front to trace the half hard bulge that was his cock with a finger, he bit his lip quietly as Arthur looked up into his face with one of his impressive eyebrows raised and his lips curved in amusement.

"My... Eager today, are we?" he asked just how Alfred knew he would, "I haven't even gotten you out of your clothes."

Alfred shrugged slightly, looking away. He knew he'd never get any awards for being a very obedient servant, but Arthur sure seemed to like him just as he was. This was proved time and time again, even when anyone else would have simply ordered him to answer or demanded more from him. But not Arthur.

No, Arthur just smiled more, less amused and more charmed than anything, making Alfred's heart continue to do that irritating fluttering that made him a little sick, but not necessarily so bad. He didn't want to think about it anymore, so he leaned close, silently asking for another kiss. His request was granted, and the moment he felt his master's lips against his again, he made a soft noise of contentment and rolled his hips a little into the hand still playing beneath his skirt.

By the time they broke apart again, Arthur was sporting his own little prize beneath his silk pajama bottoms and Alfred was already reaching back to unclasp the ridiculous uniform. He didn't look back at Arthur, though he knew the other man was staring at him heatedly as he managed to slip it off one shoulder before sliding it down until it bunched at his hips. Arthur took that moment to idly trail his fingers over Alfred's pectorals, making the young man shudder. He let him for a moment, before tugging at the outfit again, and Arthur pulled back to let him finish.

Sighing through his nose, he realized he'd have to get off the bed if he wanted to get this off in a decent amount of time. Carefully, still very aware of the precarious footwear on his feet, he stood up and let the outfit fall down to the floor. He stepped out of it and kicked it somewhat haphazardly to the side, now only dressed in the little maid cap, braces, thong, and white thigh high stockings. The heels were shiny, Mary Jane style pumps that made him even taller than he already was.

He looked back at Arthur, who looked ready to pounce. Alfred just smiled secretively and crawled back onto the bed over him, leaving enough space between them for Arthur to sit up even further before Alfred settled between his legs. When his master simply ran his fingers through his hair, Alfred dipped his head, nosing at his covered erection tentatively at first before slipping them, along with his underwear, down halfway and pressing his warm mouth over his cock.

Arthur never asked him for sex, at least, not outright. It hadn't even been part of the job description. The first time they'd met, when Alfred had come in for the interview that had lasted about half an hour, he'd been told that he would be assisting around the mansion in whatever way Arthur deemed fit, which amounted to the typical duties one would expect from a housekeeper. His _only_ housekeeper, as the only other person who worked at the manor was the groundskeeper, who didn't even live there and only worked every other day. The wardrobe requirements came not long after, before the contract was presented to him, and at once Alfred was shown to what would be his room and found his closet full of things he couldn't imagine any woman wearing in good conscience, let alone a six-foot tall young man with the physique of a football quarterback like he once was.

Honestly he should have been suspicious when the application had asked for his detailed measurements and shoe size. It begged the question as to where in the world Arthur managed to get such a collection of ridiculous clothes (and on such short notice), but he found out later that apparently he had a mysterious Japanese business associate who owned some weird online costume company that Alfred never bothered to investigate further. It also made him wonder what Arthur had planned to do with the clothing should Alfred have rejected his offer, as that had been a very real possibility.

Indeed, it hadn't gone over well at first, but oh could Mr. Kirkland be convincing. What with his stiff upper lip attitude and the commanding way he spoke without having to give an order. Alfred had been, quite frankly, mesmerized right away. It also helped that Arthur had also agreed to pay Alfred double of what he'd told him during the interview if he agreed to the terms (i.e, the various inappropriate costumes that left nothing to the imagination), and Alfred had far too many bills from four seemingly worthless years in university. He agreed after some serious self examination that hadn't helped at all, but he eventually said 'what the hell', and soon found himself apart of a world that he could never have imagined. One in which he was working for a man who seemed to have everything but wanted him.

Alfred learned right away that Arthur was probably the strangest person he'd ever met. He could be dashing and awkward all at once, and he seemed to be emotionally constipated when it came to things like romance. He had friends and acquaintances, but his sex life seemed to be lacking-- god only knew why, as it wasn't like Arthur was unattractive by _any_ means, and he was pretty fucking fantastic in the bedroom. So of course, his only option was to hire some young bloke off the street to do housework, which was sort of a cover for his desire of finding a bedmate. One he could share his home with and ask them to be scantily clad while doing so.

Again, the sex hadn't been apart of it right away. Arthur liked to look. The touching started once he realized that Alfred was rather attracted to him too, and it was extremely obvious that he was. Suddenly it became consensual. Alfred had always been a bit of a shameless flirt whenever he wanted to get something out of a situation, and in this particular case he simply did because he wanted to. He teased Arthur, indulged him by wearing the stupid dresses, because it wasn't like anyone else ever saw him, and if it got the other man to look at him like he did, then that was fine. He complimented him, did everything he asked, except for the times he didn't, and made sure to play hard to get, because Arthur miraculously liked that too even though he'd fuss and be adorably irritated.

Because he wanted Arthur. Not right away at first, of course, his only reaction from the beginning being simply flattered. But after the first few months, he was certain of his feelings. It was then that the proverbial floodgates opened, because once Arthur got even the smallest taste of what he desired, he could be insatiable. And Alfred didn't think he could be blamed for giving in. It would have been one thing, to be working for some creepy old geezer who liked young boys in dresses, who had forced him to do these things. But Alfred had known what he had signed up for, and it was all for the adorably awkward, conscientious and kind Arthur-- who was five years older than him, a handsome 29, but by no means a geezer, even if he did like to smoke cigars and wear sweater vests and read about the stock market.

He was way too kinky and horny all the time to be a real old man anyway, Alfred always thought, even now as he bobbed his head up and down in Arthur's lap, and Arthur just smiled-- no, smirked, definitely smirked --down at him, adjusting the little cap on top of the younger man's head to keep the perfect aesthetic. Alfred looked back at him through his lashes as he sucked, tongue swirling over the head of his cock as he made a soft groan in the back of his throat. What had started as just Arthur touching him inappropriately while he dusted furniture and some lewd staring, became this, Alfred making himself available whenever Arthur asked-- or didn't ask, as again, he never had to. He read the visual cues and was never wrong.

The suction of his mouth grew stronger the more Arthur responded. The older man was bucking his hips ever so slightly, not enough to choke him. It was too early to be so brash. So Alfred simply took it upon himself to do more, relaxing his throat and inhaling more of him, swallowing around the salty organ in his mouth with some difficulty. He nearly gagged and would have thought it all a stupid idea, were it not for the look of absolute bliss on his master's face. So, he carried on, moving his lips and sucking faster and faster until he felt those slim hips stiffen.

Hot cum shot down his throat, and he immediately pulled back so he didn't choke himself for real. He managed to swallow most of it down, licking his lips before leaning back down to lick and clean away the remnants. Arthur was still taking in shuddering breaths when Alfred pulled away to clean his face a bit like a cat, and the British man stared at him for a long while.

"Come here," he murmured for the second time that morning, voice huskier and breathy, making Alfred blush like a fool. He inched forward as Arthur ran a hand down his muscled back and over the slope of his ass, squeezing one of the firm cheeks. Alfred made a soft, pleased sound, hoping it sounded less girly than the moan that had bubbled up in his throat and threatened to eek out at such a simple touch. It was as though the other man had his body trained to react that way.

"I want this," Arthur said, tone almost wistful, "but it would be wise to bathe first."

He paused, as if considering, and an almost devilish expression came over his face. Alfred would have recoiled from slight terror had he not been so turned on. "I'm sure you cleaned yourself out thoroughly from yesterday, hm?"

Alfred felt all of him heat up at the comment, the emphasis on "thoroughly" making him shudder a bit, Arthur and his accent were dangerous sometimes. He swallowed thickly, still tasting Arthur's seed on his tongue. "Yes sir."

"Very well, then. Draw me a bath."

Alfred didn't really want to move, but he did so, slipping off of the bed and starting to reach for the uniform when Arthur cleared his throat at him pointedly. Ah, he should have known better.

The bathroom was connected, and Alfred pushed open the door before making his way over the luxurious, expansive tub near the center of the moderately sized room. It was about the size of the living room in his old apartment, which was really shocking the first time he'd seen it. He grabbed a bottle of rose scented bubble bath, remembering how he had once thought it ridiculously feminine, but somehow fitting for Arthur. It turned out that the stuff was quite nice on the skin, and it smelled okay, so Alfred never had any real complaints. He splashed some into the running water, and then went to gather some towels.

By then, Arthur had made his way inside the bathroom, making his way towards the sink to brush his teeth before returning to the center of the room and folding his arms as he waited for the younger to finish bustling about. Once Alfred had finished, he gestured grandly at the tub, and Arthur rolled his eyes as he stepped forward and stood straight with his arms at his sides as he waited to be undressed. Alfred calmly stepped in front of him, fingers finding the top button of the pajama top and flicking each one open with surprisingly deft fingers. It was surely from all the practice. He couldn't help the way his hands lingered after pulling the top away, revealing all of Arthur's pale, creamy skin to the light.

Next came the bottoms, which didn't require much thought. He simply slipped them down the man's narrow hips, and on the way back up, his hands nearly brushed against Arthur's cock that was still half hard between his legs. He smiled to himself and then helped his master into the tub, watching him sink into the warm water and bubbles with a sated expression on his face. Fetching his favorite soap and scrub brush, he went to his knees with both, and waited until Arthur shifted and held out his arms to be scrubbed.

Bathing the other man was probably one of his favorite duties. Not only was it extremely easy, but he liked to watch Arthur's face while he did so. It relaxed him. Despite having hired Alfred, Arthur was not exactly the dependent sort, he tended to do everything himself (hence his disastrous efforts in the kitchen when trying to feed himself, and the fact that he had lived alone since turning 18 to focus on his career), and he had only ever had servants when he was a child. His parents were from old money, so of course it was simply par for the course for them to have help around the house for every little thing. So Arthur was used to it-- but he didn't need it for himself.

Alfred was that one exception. He let Alfred do (almost) everything for him, partly for image's sake. He'd offered him a legitimate job, after all. But moments like these were almost personal. Symbolic. He liked the fact that Arthur trusted him enough to do this, trusted him enough to close his eyes and let the layer of cold, cynical worldliness be scrubbed away by his large, strong hands. He also just liked to see Arthur naked, but that was just to be expected. Considering what they had been doing only moments before, Alfred could not help the way his thoughts--and eyes--began to stray from his task a little. He had yet to satisfy the ache between his own legs, and it was hard to ignore when Arthur was right in front of him and so vulnerable. His gaze lingered on the smooth slope of his shoulders, the pale column of his throat, to his firm jaw, not quite feminine but not completely masculine either, giving him an attractive look. He had an aristocratic nose, fine cheek bones, and the most beautiful pair of green eyes... eyes that were staring at him suddenly, and his hand froze on it's trek down his master's torso.

Arthur chuckled. "Need I remind you that it is rude to stare, pet?"

"I was just wondering if you'd like me to wash your hair too," Alfred mumbled stupidly, expression not unlike a deer in headlights, but Arthur was laughing again, the strangely musical sound making him grin right back.

"Mm, I don't believe you. I suppose you want a treat, don't you?"

Alfred said nothing, simply looked a bit shy, even though he wasn't at all. Arthur reached out to tug gently at the ribbon around his neck.

"Let me see how clean you are," he murmured, pretending to fix him with a critical stare, but all the same it left Alfred feeling exposed and flustered in the best of ways. He nodded, standing up and carefully removing the stockings and shoes, the latter of which he was not sorry to see off his feet at all. No matter how used he was to walking in them, he still hated them with a passion. Then he reached for the thong, easing them down his hips, but not too quickly, as he knew Arthur was watching him. The braces and neck ribbon came next, and he took the maid's cap off, placing them all neatly in a pile close by. By the time he slipped into the tub, Arthur was already reaching out to touch him, running his hands up his strong legs and muscled thighs with something akin to reverence.

"Turn around," came the soft command, and Alfred did so, immediately assuming the position, as it were, as he knelt down in the water with his back to Arthur, clutching onto the side of the tub with his ass in the air. Those same hands worshiped his skin further, cupping his cheeks and just massaging them for a few long moments that left Alfred anxious and trying desperately not to squirm or lean back for something more substantial.

He didn't have to wait long, however. Nimble, graceful fingers parted his cheeks, spreading him wide open. The younger man bit his lip and clutched the rim of the porcelain. He knew Arthur was just staring while he twitched and remained exposed, part of him warm beneath the water and the rest a bit chilly, even in the steamy air. A finger traced the rim of his puckered entrance, and with no warning, pushed inside. Alfred bit back a cry and forced himself not to jerk forward or backward. At least until he passed inspection. Arthur liked him clean at all times-- save for when the man was finished having his filthy way with him.

"Hm. Looks like you've done well, poppet. Nice and clean," Arthur was murmuring, and Alfred could hear and feel the water sloshing a bit as Arthur moved even closer to him. Anticipation gripped his heart and his cock as his master was so close, he could feel his breath on his skin and his nose brushing against the crack of his ass. "Quite lovely... I'll have to partake later."

Later?

Alfred blinked, knowing he felt disappointed and he was certain it showed on his face, despite being turned the other way. But Arthur was very clever and very observant, so it didn't surprise him when he felt Arthur smirk against him.

"Of course that doesn't mean I'm letting you off so easily, love," and Alfred gasped as another finger joined the first and began to stretch him. Normally Arthur took an almost obscene amount of time to prepare him-- for his safety and comfort, as well as the fact that he was so busy teasing and driving Alfred out of his mind with pleasure from foreplay and his games, by the time they got down to business, the American was beyond ready to take whatever Arthur had to give. It seemed today would be different, however, as two fingers became three and that appeared to be all he was going to get.

Alfred did not mind, whatsoever. He tried not to keen and curse as his hips moved back against the fingers, now that he was certain of what Arthur had planned, and Arthur graciously let him for a little while, until a firm hand smacked his bottom. A relatively painless slap, but one that acted as a wordless command, and Alfred stopped moving immediately, legs trembling as he felt those glorious fingers slip out of him.

"Now," Arthur was saying as he pulled him down back into the water slowly, seating him atop his lap and resting his chin upon Alfred's shoulder as he whispered against his neck. "let's not get any water on my floor. That would be rather dangerous. If you splash any, you will be punished."

Punishments were not really punishments with Arthur. Alfred sometimes wished he could be punished all day. It was why even if he did what he was supposed to do, oh, 75% of the time, the other 25 constantly rebelled just to see what Arthur would do to him. And he was never disappointed. However, at the moment, there was the far more pressing matter of what was "pressing" against him, aligned along the crack of his ass and just waiting to indulge. Alfred braced both hands on the side of the tub just as Arthur leaned up to drag his earlobe between his perfect teeth.

"Go on then," came the breathy whisper between licks and bites, "move your hips."

Alfred stifled a moan as he lifted his hips, assured that Arthur would help him along and make sure he was positioned correctly, before dropping them quickly again. He was immediately filled, and the sound it drew from his throat was rather obscene. Arthur, the smug bastard, only chuckled as Alfred fought to regain some sense. He had to concentrate on keeping the floor dry, didn't he?

But as he began to move, the idea of concentrating on anything but being filled and the sound of his ragged panting seemed utterly impossible, and it wasn't long before he was fucking himself upon Arthur's cock with something like desperation. Arthur was just slightly smaller than him in stature, but it hadn't mattered at all. Arthur was strong, his graceful hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise a little as he rocked up into him, and his cock may have been a few inches shy of Alfred's in size but it certainly filled him perfectly. Just as it fit perfectly in his hand when he stroked it, or in his mouth when he sucked it as though his life depended on it.

"Does that feel good, my dear?" his master cooed in his ear, though his breathing was growing just as ragged. The American wasn't exactly sure how Arthur could manage to sound so fucking sexy and in control no matter what they were doing, but he found he didn't really care as long as he never stopped.

"Nn... good... so good..." Alfred moaned in a way that he hoped wasn't pitiful, but judging by Arthur's (sexy) chuckle (at his expense), he knew the answer to that. He had a handle on the rhythm the other man was going for-- at least until one of Arthur's wiry hands slid out of the water to flick and flutter about one of his nipples, giving it a sharp pinch without warning that sent a jolt straight to his cock.

With every slap of their hips, the water sloshed around them, though it didn't seem as loud as the unending praises and absolutely filthy promises Arthur whispered heatedly into his ear. About how hot and tight he was, about how lovely he looked, about how he planned to fuck him all day today, that he would hardly be able to walk tomorrow. Alfred gasped and groaned and ached to hear more, and by then he'd forgotten all about what he was supposed to be doing.

At some point Arthur let go of his hips and just let him move on his own, letting Alfred fall back, both of them arching and murmuring expletives. Alfred tightened around him and rocked his hips in slow circles at times before resuming his slight bouncing on top of him. It wasn't nearly as fluid as it usually was, but neither of them cared. He especially stopped caring when Arthur grabbed hold of his cock and began to stroke him skillfully. His ensuing cries seemed to echo about the room.

Arthur came, and Alfred followed right after him. As he stained the surface of the water with white, Arthur slowed his hips, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, which made Alfred shudder. Sometimes the little touches felt more sensitive than anything else.

They both relaxed back into the water, which felt less than stellar really, considering it was now soiled, and the water was lukewarm at this point. But neither of them moved, save for his master, who shifted so that his back hit the tub, and he pulled Alfred with him to turn him in his lap slightly and press his nose between his neck and collarbone. Alfred sighed contentedly and it took quite a bit of willpower not to lean down and kiss Arthur. He wasn't brave enough to do that except during sex. The thought was rather sobering after having enjoyed himself, but it wasn't as though he hadn't thought on it before. Even though he was sure he liked Arthur (and he was severely understating the "like" part), and that Arthur liked him, he didn't want to cross any lines. Arthur had a way he did things, and Alfred had agreed to follow it. He quickly pushed the thought away as he always did, and waited for the Englishman to stir and get them both out of the tub.

In the end, there did end up being water all over the floor, and Alfred had conceded to being fucked over the side of the tub while he scrubbed it, as punishment. Which didn't go over very well-- the scrubbing part. Everything else was awesome.


	2. Lunch

It was already 1 in the afternoon by the time they left Arthur's bedroom and made their way downstairs for a late lunch. By then, there had been at least three phone calls that had interrupted them between rounds, and Arthur had not been very friendly or professional after answering them. Thankfully, all three had been from his senior attorney and personal adviser, Francis Bonnefoy, merely calling to pester and also remind him of some super important meeting the following Monday, and if he wanted to meet for coffee to discuss it or perhaps over dinner, followed by wine, and perhaps a trip to the Frenchman's fancy penthouse downtown to spend the night--

Alfred didn't really like the guy, but it wasn't as though he had a say in Arthur's business affairs-- or his business partners. At the very least, it sounded like Arthur didn't like him much either, as proved by the way he had emphasized during every interruption that he was otherwise occupied with a string of threats and curses. Alfred had paid for it in the best way possible, as at least one out of the three times it had happened while Arthur had his dick shoved up his ass, and Arthur was rougher when he was irritated.

He still didn't know why Arthur didn't just fire the guy, but again, he didn't ask too many questions about things of that nature. His scope was limited to what happened between them in the mansion, and that was just fine. It made things a little easier, despite Alfred's natural curiosity. He wouldn't have minded knowing more, but... that was reserved for people in normal relationships or something. Probably.

Fixing something simple for lunch took no time at all. Little finger sandwiches that Alfred would have to consume an entire tray of to feel anywhere near full, a simple soup dish, and then fruit and creme for dessert. Had it really been up to him, he would have deep fried some fish and potatoes, since he knew Arthur craved those every now and then, and it was supposed to be that kind of day. But Arthur specifically asked for something simple and light, and so that's what he gave him.

He was just finishing his soup when Alfred rolled out the tray of freshly cut fruits, from strawberries and blueberries to slices of mango and pineapple. There was an ornate bowl in the middle filled with soft cream in which to dip the fruit into with tiny pronged forks that were kind of impractical, but this was how rich people rolled.

Arthur dabbed at his mouth with a napkin like he always did after eating and Alfred quickly moved his dirty dishes out of the way and cleared the rest of the table to place the fruit down. His master watched him silently, as if contemplating, and the American knew that could only mean good things for him. He was silent as he worked, and as he stepped away from the table to allow Arthur to dig in, he was stopped by a hand sliding up the red skirt he was wearing-- this one different from that morning, Alfred was quite used to doing three or four costume changes per day.

"Hmm. Something's missing," Arthur was saying, rather serious sounding despite his wandering hand playing inside Alfred's panties. "Did you not bring me a plate for this?"

Alfred had to really work his brain to form words properly. He swallowed thickly around a lopsided smile. "Well I figured you didn't need one-- sir. You can just dip with the fork and then eat that way! Like uh, fondue or something."

"And create a mess? I suppose that's how they do things in America, but--" Oh god, whenever Arthur was criticizing his country and would say its name like that, Alfred would inexplicably blush and sweat and feel his cock stir, he felt like a weirdo but he didn't much care, "civilized people use plates."

"I can go get you one," Alfred offered, pointlessly, because he knew he wasn't going to be leaving the room any time soon. At Arthur's raised eyebrow, he laughed a little. "Or not."

"Get on the table," Arthur responded, smirk curving at the corners of his lips. "Ah, and remove your clothes while you're at it."

"Of course, sir, of course," Alfred replied a bit cheekily, and was swatted on the rump for his efforts.

At the moment he was wearing a different color maid uniform, the skirt tighter against him, less frilly, and a sweet candy apple red color that Arthur loved to see on him any other day, but now was more likely a nuisance. He slipped out of it just as easily as he had the one from this morning, fingers catching on the lacy red garters connected to his sheer stockings. The panties were laced up in the front, barely containing his half hard cock as he stepped out of his polished heels and immediately climbed onto the table. He stretched himself out on his back, and his stomach quivered a bit from anticipation as Arthur stood up from his chair and leered down at him.

His green eyes flickered over the fruit tray briefly, considering his options as well as prolonging Alfred's torture. He finally decided to pick up a stray serving spoon, scooping up a bit of the cream and returning to Alfred to place large dollops of the sweet stuff in strategic areas of conquest. First his nipples, which made Alfred squirm as the cold substance made the little nubs harden instantly.

"Nn, a-ah..." the slight noise came unbidden from his mouth, and Arthur paused to give him a look that was torn between amusement and censure.

"Plates don't talk, do they?"

Alfred blushed and bit his lip, conceding silence.

Arthur resumed moving with the spoon, leaving a generous trail of cream down his stomach, seeming to linger as he watched the strong muscles move underneath the skin. He left some in his belly button, and then, as if carefully unwrapping a parcel, untied the panties to let his cock spring free, and covered it with cream all the way to the tip.

By now, Alfred was flushed and panting a bit, knowing the hotter he got, the more the cream would melt all over him. Arthur seemed unperturbed by this, and merely smiled as he then started reaching for the fruit.

The other man took his sweet time in selecting a good assortment of berries and fruit slices before placing them in the dollops of cream all along Alfred's body, humming as he went. He could be quite artistic, and were his cooking skills not so poor, he might have made a very classy chef. But as it was, Alfred just wanted him to fuck him already, and Arthur hadn't even really touched him yet. He was starting to tremble, as was his cock, and he could feel the cream starting to drip down its length and down between his cheeks. It felt a little unpleasant if only because he was desperate for more friction and contact.

Arthur glared at him. "Plates do not _move_ , either."

Alfred went completely still, inwardly rolling his eyes but not really annoyed. Arthur wasn't actually angry either, but he could be convincingly so when it suited him. Biting his lip again, he struggled to maintain composure, even as Arthur smiled at him suddenly again, before leaning down to kiss him. Alfred opened his mouth wide when he felt Arthur's tongue glide along his lips, and Arthur started to take full advantage... until he pulled back with a soft lick and then reached for a cherry, dipping it in cream and leaning over his mouth again.

"Open up, love," he murmured, and Alfred did, carefully taking the cherry into his mouth so he didn't choke and licking all of the cream off deftly before chewing and swallowing. Arthur watched him chew, eyes trained on his lips. He leaned down again to lick him again, and this time Alfred licked back, letting their tongues tangle before Arthur pressed him back and plundered his mouth. Alfred had to moan, despite the fact that plates did not make such noises either. It seemed acceptable for now, as it was merely stifled and swallowed by Arthur's mouth attacking his own.

When he pulled away, the Englishman was licking his lips, and his pretty eyes had darkened dangerously. Alfred felt his breath catch and his cock twitch, and steadily still the cream melted against his rapidly heating skin. He didn't have to wonder or wait, as immediately Arthur began kissing him again, though his lips began to trail downwards, along his neck, mouthing over the leather choker and grinning when Alfred took in a sharp breath, and then swept his tongue over one of his nipples, catching a juicy strawberry with a bit of the cream as he did so. It took a few more licks and swipes to get all of the remaining cream, which Arthur savored as though it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. Alfred's nipple ached with feeling, hard and still wet in the exposed air. Arthur gave it a few more attentive swipes before moving to the other, and by then Alfred was having a lot of trouble keeping his little gasps and moans at bay.

It was agonizing, knowing where his mouth was and being unable to move to even watch. Only feeling those soft, velvety lips caressing him as he was devoured. They trailed down his stomach and that playful tongue was out again, dipping into his bellybutton, and Alfred had to grip the sides of the table. Arthur didn't seem to mind it.

And then suddenly, the mouth was gone. Alfred opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had squeezed them shut, and from the angle he could just see Arthur staring down at him-- well, more specifically, at his cock covered in cream. Alfred wasn't sure what he was thinking about, but it had to be pleasant. The man's cheeks were a bit flushed, his eyes dark, and his smile something altogether ravenous. It made Alfred want to moan just looking at him. When two arms wrapped around his thighs, he felt himself being pulled along the table's surface until his knees were bent over the slighter man's shoulders. Alfred had enough strength to hold them there so that he wouldn't put so much pressure on Arthur, but he knew even if he let himself lay there like a rag doll, Arthur could handle it. He was about ten times stronger during sex, and Alfred could not figure out how for the life of him.

But now, his cock was right in Arthur's face, and Alfred knew he was done for. Arthur stuck out his tongue just to lick a bit of the cream from the head, and that was torture enough. When his master grinned at him before taking all of him in his mouth, cream and all, Alfred nearly screamed, his nails scratching across the surface of the table. He was so glad he waxed the thing on a regular basis and so his fingers slipped instead, otherwise he was sure he would have left marks.

There was just nothing like it. Arthur was so prim, so proper, so collected, no matter what he was doing. But now he looked wild, beastly, and so fucking hot Alfred was going to cum in no time at all if the man kept up that intense sucking. His entire mouth was full, some of the cream on the sides of his mouth and even some on his cheek as he swallowed him, and then groaned around the flesh in his mouth. Alfred wanted to cry out so badly, wanted to scream about how good it felt, about much he wanted it and more-- he had always been a talker, especially during sex, so naturally it was very hard to keep silent. That didn't stop him from whimpering when Arthur lowered him back down onto the table, letting go of his cock that was now clean of cream. Most of it was on Arthur's face.

Alfred sat up carefully, close enough to wrap his legs around Arthur's waist and pull himself towards him. He leaned up to lick the remnants from the other man's chin and cheeks, using gentle, broad swipes of the tongue that made Arthur start to blush then from embarrassment. Once he was satisfied that his master was clean, he grinned and licked his lips pointedly. Arthur stared at his mouth before kissing him roughly again, then pushing him back.

"Turn over," Arthur said in a hoarse voice that shook Alfred to the core. He obeyed with shaky limbs, climbing back onto the table and on his knees with his ass in the other man's face. Alfred let the front of his body go limp, resting his head against the table, and stretching his arms out so he could grip the side.

There was a pause as Arthur leaned away, and he heard the clinking of a spoon.

_Oh god. He's going to--_

The still somewhat chilled cream was dribbled between his ass cheeks, joining that which had already leaked there from his cock. Before Alfred could even get used to the sensation, a hot tongue lapped it right up. Alfred gave a startled and soft curse that turned into wanton moans as the action was repeated again and again, until the spoon was tossed aside and Arthur was holding onto his hips with a vice-like grip as he nosed his way deeper. His tongue swirled in messy, wet circles over his hole, and he was very quiet in his ministrations, as was only proper for a gentleman. Alfred was not quiet at all any longer, moaning so insistently that he didn't care if Arthur spanked him until he cried, all of this felt too good, too amazing.

When that tongue wiggled and slipped inside of him, he panted Arthur's name and ended up rocking his hips backwards in a move that was completely subconscious. Arthur only tongue fucked him more fiercely, while his hand slipped between Alfred's thighs to grip and fondle his cock.

He was so close. All of him seemed to be tightening up, the heat in his belly and in his blood was threatening to overtake him. He wanted release so very badly, and Arthur knew damn well that he did. His licks and sucks tapered off, as did that glorious hand that had been stroking him. His fingers remained wrapped around him, but Arthur sat up, and Alfred heard the distinct sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric before he was yanked backward yet again, his feet being brought back to the floor as he was bent over the table. Then suddenly Arthur was in him and all around him as he draped himself over his back. One powerful thrust, and Alfred came all over the table, the floor, and himself.

His master didn't stop. He began to piston in and out of him so hard, the entire table rattled noisily, and Alfred caught sight of one of the candle sticks toppling over and rolling off of it and unceremoniously onto the floor. But who could care when he was being filled so perfectly again? He would never tire of Arthur, of his graceful hands holding onto him, his ragged breath in his ear, the smell of his favorite soap, the way he clung to him, desired him, ached for him. Alfred was so far gone, he hardly noticed himself going hard again as he was fucked mercilessly against smooth mahogany. A bit of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth as he moaned pathetically, desperately, and Arthur answered him with feral yet tender exhalations of his own.

As the Englishman reached his climax, Alfred tensed and tightened around him, milking his cock of all it had to offer and managing a breathless chuckle when Arthur cursed softly and bit his shoulder, immediately kissing it after to soothe the pain. Alfred realized he was still trembling a bit, and though he felt sated, the longer they lay there, the more the angle became a bit uncomfortable. He was glad Arthur could read him so well, as the man pulled back and out of him, allowing Alfred to move, though not before he leered at his backside and the way his cum and some of the cream from earlier dripped down between his thighs.

As Arthur was fastening his trousers closed again, there came a buzzing noise from his pocket. Irritably he fished his phone out for the fourth time, and Alfred tried not to look too indignant at that as he eased himself up and stood there awkwardly. He could tell it wasn't Francis by the expression on the other man's face as he quickly answered, murmured a few affirmatives, and then hung up again.

"Sorry poppet. It seems I will have to do some work today after all," Arthur said with a breathy sigh, sliding his phone back into his pocket, expression disappointed. Alfred was as well, but he didn't show it, as he didn't want to make Arthur feel any worse about it. It's not like the man had promised him anything-- it was more that Arthur had wanted a break, and now he wasn't going to get it, at least not completely. The Englishman seriously worked way too hard. Sometimes, Alfred wondered if he was going to have a mental breakdown before he was 30 with the way he pushed himself. Success came at a price, that was for sure. And he didn't like how much it cost.

But Alfred being Alfred, all of his thoughts showed in his eyes, and Arthur read him like a book. He smiled slightly as he came forward to cup his cheek and press a light kiss to his lips.

"I'm going to wash up and then I'll be in my study. Clean yourself up again and then come see me. I'm sure I have some dusting you can take care of," he said, which sounded less like a proposition, though it clearly was.

"'Kay," Alfred replied, managing a smile just for Arthur, who returned it again and turned to head upstairs. Alfred watched him until he was gone, and then looked back at the mess all over the table and the floor, nevermind the mess all over himself. He cringed a bit, deciding a shower for himself was in order to wash off the leftover cream and fruit juices sticking uncomfortably to his skin first before tackling the rest of this. That would surely give Arthur ample time to get everything done that he needed to.


	3. Afternoon Tea

By mid afternoon, Alfred finally felt it safe to disturb Arthur in the study. He had cleaned the kitchen, the dining room, and he was freshly showered and dressed in a slightly more subtle maid uniform, a classic black number with a traditional headpiece. The dress itself was still quite short, but frilly and showed off his long legs nicely while keeping the rest of him rather modest.

He had a tray of tea and biscuits with him-- actually they were cookies, but he learned not to call them that around Arthur --as he knocked upon the door, and there was a pause and the sound of papers rustling inside before he heard Arthur's tired voice call out an affirmative answer. He entered the room then, balancing the tray with one arm and walking straight to the smaller table that sat in front of a comfortable little love seat with embroidered throw pillows. Said pillows were embroidered by Arthur himself, which had struck Alfred as hilarious the first time he'd learned that, but now it was more charming, another one of Arthur's interesting quirks. Still pretty funny though.

Arthur was at his massive desk, rubbing his temple irritably as he scribbled furiously on notepads and typed things into a computer. Alfred didn't pretend to understand what he was doing or what had him so obviously wound up. He merely poured the man a cup of tea with a splash of milk, just the way he liked, and set it down before him. His master murmured a sound of acknowledgement and gave him a slight but grateful smile as he glanced at the cup, but then went right back to scribbling. Alfred blew a little puff of air upwards, stirring the bangs on his forehead as he stood to the side of him and just watched and waited.

Eventually Arthur stopped stressing himself out to lift the cup up to his lips, taking a measured sip that visibly seemed to refresh him, though his shoulders were still tense.

"Very good, Alfred," he said stiffly. He liked it when Arthur used his name, but not when it sounded like that.

"No problem. Are you okay, sir?" Alfred asked. He wondered if he was going to have to leave after this.

"Ah, yes, perfectly well, thank you."

Like hell he was. Alfred rolled his eyes, since the other couldn't see him, so tempted to knock all the papers and books off of his desk and kiss that tired, exhausted expression from the other man's face. He couldn't very well do that-- at least not at the moment. He had a better idea that wouldn't most likely result in getting him immediately fired, waiting patiently until Arthur had resumed typing and finished a sentence in some long accounting report he was working on. Taking a breath, he stepped behind Arthur this time, knowing the other wasn't paying him any attention at that moment, and placed both of his strong hands on either of Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur went still, fingers perched upon the keyboard. Alfred could just imagine him with one eyebrow raised in confusion. "Alfred? What are you doing?"

Alfred, of course, cheeky thing that he was, answered, "Nothing, sir!" while beginning to knead his shoulders firmly.

It was an instantaneous change. The muscles went lax under his hands, as did Arthur, who seemed to deflate and let out a long sigh that Alfred decided to take as a good sign. He considered himself a miracle worker when it came to massages, and it wasn't the first time he'd bestowed one upon Arthur. The other man knew he was in for a treat, and so he knew he wasn't going to get kicked out, not with how Alfred was attacking those knots in his upper back like a pro.

Soon, his work was all but forgotten, and Arthur was practically purring and melting into his chair. Alfred wanted to move lower, but he could quite do it while standing up and with Arthur still in his seat. He leaned down close to his master's ear, and for a moment he was not his meek, obedient little maid, but the man he was underneath those frills and the facade. The man Alfred liked to think Arthur felt something for.

"I think this would be more comfortable on the couch," he murmured, trying not to smirk when Arthur jumped a bit from the hot, husky voice at his ear.

"Nonsense. I've told you, I really need to get this done," Arthur responded, but no matter how gruff or serious he tried to sound, the way his shoulders remained lax under Alfred's hands was enough evidence that the man would do anything he asked of him at this point. And Alfred intended to use that to his full advantage.

He asked him again, and the second time Arthur agreed to be moved, grumbling to himself all the while. Alfred didn't buy it for a moment. He led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to lie down on his stomach. Any other time it would seem undignified, but Arthur seemed to be indulging him for now. Alfred swung one leg over his hips, effectively straddling him as he drew his hands down Arthur's back. The blunt trail of his fingers through his shirt made the other man actually purr this time, and Alfred chuckled softly as he began to rub circles against his shoulder blades and then worked his way down.

The legitimate part of the massage was quite thorough-- again, Alfred was quite proud that he could reduce nearly anyone but especially his master to complete putty with just his hands. But now, he wanted to make sure Arthur wasn't thinking about work at all right now, and he not so subtly cupped the other man's bottom without any warning whatsoever, waiting for his reaction.

Arthur stiffened and turned his head, a light dusting of pink across his face. "Alfred."

It was supposed to be a warning-- surely that's what he had been trying to go for. But Alfred continued to smile while looking very intent upon what he was doing. He gave the round curve of his ass a nice little squeeze, liking how firm it felt under his fingers. It was rare he got the chance to manhandle Mr. Kirkland, so he planned to enjoy it for all it was worth. Arthur was shifting beneath him, saying his name again in a questioning tone.

Alfred grabbed both cheeks and squeezed, Arthur quickly muffled his moan against the couch cushion and melted again. Alfred would have patted himself on the back if his hands weren't totally occupied at that moment. He began to massage them just as he had the rest of him, though his touches were a bit more gentle, though clearly meant to arouse. And arouse it did, as the little indignant sounds Arthur made tapered off into pleased gasps, though Alfred knew he hadn't won completely yet. He still had to get the man out of his clothes.

"Master Arthur," he said quietly, calmly as though he hadn't just been fondling his employer.

It took a long moment before Arthur finally turned his head to look at him from the corner of his eyes, face a pretty shade of pink that made it hard for Alfred to keep his composure.

"I believe we're done here," the Englishman ground out, and it wasn't without some effort. He wanted to turn over and sit up, so Alfred pulled back, allowing the other man enough room to flop onto his back. But as soon as he did, Alfred dropped his hips again, right over his legs, and Arthur looked up at him as though he'd sprouted another head.

"What do you think you're doing, love?" he asked, the endearment rolling off of his tongue in a slightly condescending manner, as was meant for it to be.

"Master, if I may," Alfred began, fingers itching to just rip the other man's pants down and off with no explanation, but he controlled himself as he continued, "today was supposed to be your day off. A break, you know."

"And I told you that I don't have the time for--"

"Yeah, you do."

Alfred's response was so flat and matter of fact, his tone booking no argument. And Arthur's eyebrows furrowed, clearly not expecting such a blunt answer, though it wasn't like Alfred had never done so before. Alfred just grinned at him, too busy enjoying having the upper hand to do much else. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Would you like me to continue?" he inquired, very clearly asking now. Arthur was silent, desire clearly written on his features. And then Alfred shifted his hips over Arthur's, delighted to find something nice and hard pressing against him already.

"Alfred, I-- y-yes...." Arthur stuttered at the movement and brush over his covered erection. Again, Alfred only smiled at him, infuriatingly calm but also so obviously amused.

"Then I'll continue massaging you, Master. I want you to feel good," he murmured, the curve of his smile promising only good things as he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, letting it fall open and exposing his skin to the air. Then he reached for his pants, sliding them down stiff but unresistant legs. The boxer briefs followed right after, leaving the Brit half naked and still staring as if he were torn, curiosity shining through the most. Alfred could see it was that curiosity that was winning him over, just by the way Arthur licked his lips and his body relaxed. Not to mention the way his pretty cock was jutting up from between his legs.

He decided to remove his own undergarments then, almost wondering why he even bothered to wear them or anything at all today, but he supposed Arthur liked to watch him take them off just as he liked seeing them on him, so it didn't matter much. He left everything else in place and adjusted his position so that he was nearly sitting on Arthur's chest, facing away from him and sliding back just a bit. He couldn't help but grin as he heard Arthur murmur something that sounded suspiciously like 'oh god yes', and he decided to do it again, pulling forward and then sliding back, the soft cheeks of his ass sliding over the other man, rubbing in light circles over his nipples, and then repeating the movements.

It was a strange feeling, but it felt far better than Alfred expected. He tried to keep it up as long as possible before he lost himself-- this wasn't about his pleasure right now, it was about Arthur's. He scooted forward once more, quickly wrapping a hand around Arthur's member and stroking it with practiced ease. Arthur's head fell back in pleasure and a soft sound escaped his lips. Alfred moved his hand faster, kneading the man's thigh as he did so, then carefully slipping the same hand between his thighs to cup his balls, touches almost soothing in nature. It was a massage, after all-- that's the excuse Alfred was going with.

As he coaxed his legs further apart, Alfred lifted his free hand to his mouth, slipping two fingers inside and turning his head to catch Arthur's gaze as he made a show of sucking on them. He lathed both digits with his tongue, coating them in saliva, only growing more eager and lewd with it as he watched Arthur's eyes darken and that familiar expression of pure lust cross his face. He sucked loudly for a bit longer before pulling them from his mouth and sliding it down between Arthur's cheeks to rub easily, teasingly over and around his hole.

He'd never actually penetrated Arthur before, though it wasn't as though he hadn't had the opportunities to do so. Normally after the tired businessman had finished entertaining a client and he'd gotten into the good bourbon. A severely inebriated Arthur was quite the treat, seeing as he was about 10 times more ornery, but also 10 times as horny. His entire gentlemanly act would be out the window in favor of begging his maid to fuck him up against the nearest surface. Alfred never did, out of respect and because he would never take advantage. He would simply drag Arthur to bed and tuck him in, despite the temptation being so great (and Arthur's whining for him). Alfred didn't mind bottoming 90% of the time, though he wouldn't have minded a change. He liked taking care of Arthur, so why not in this way as well?

Arthur was staring at him, though it was a less pointed and disgruntled expression, if not a little nervous. It was curious to him, and just a hunch, but considering Arthur never asked to switch positions save for when he was wasted out of his mind, Alfred was quite sure it was because it was the only way Arthur could work up the courage to trust someone enough to do it to him. Alfred tried not to let that hurt his ego, considering he thought himself to be a damn good top, so to never have his awesomeness recognized was a bit of a bummer. He wanted to make Arthur feel good.

So this... this was fairly new. But he read his master's hazy expression and soft noises of pleasure, and decided to continue, slipping a finger inside of him. The other man became lax again while his ass tightened around that digit almost desperately, sucking him in. Saliva did not make for the best lubricant, but it sufficed for now, as Alfred wasn't planning on going any further than his fingers. He wriggled the digits deeper, picturing Arthur's handsome face as he listened to his body.

He slipped another finger inside, then another, scissoring a bit, but not stretching him too far. Instead, he focused on caressing the hot walls surrounding them, easing his fingers as far as they would go, slipping out to the tips, and then gliding back in. And then, with a little smile, he curled his fingers a bit at just the right angle, and brushed over Arthur's prostate.

"Oh _god_ \--" Arthur choked out, legs lifting off of the couch to bend at the knee as he spread himself open further somehow.

Alfred smiled a bit and pressed his fingers more firmly against the little bundle of nerves, alternating between rubbing in circles and thrusting rather relentlessly against it. None of it was rough or forceful, still a leisurely, calm pace that was still managing to leave Arthur flushed and gasping underneath him. Arthur was always calling him 'beautiful' and his 'lovely pet' and all sorts of embarrassing nicknames that made Alfred blush like 14 year old girl during moments like these, though as soon as the tables were turned, Alfred wanted to do the same to him. Because Arthur was just downright gorgeous, and he wanted to tell him so. The way he quivered and trembled, the beautiful blush of his skin, the curve of his body as he arched into Alfred's touches, the little whimpers and the way he mouthed Alfred's name, too shy (and prideful) to say it out loud, but Alfred could hear it loud and clear in his head.

"Fuck--" the Englishman's curse tapered off into a high pitched moan as all of him tensed up, and Alfred bent forward to take Arthur's hardness into his mouth while he kept massaging his prostate, all until the other man came in his mouth. He made sure to swallow every last drop as he usually did, easing his fingers out and changing positions to slip between his legs and rest his cheek against his master's thigh. Arthur's hands had found their way into his hair, sliding through the strands and petting him gratefully, making Alfred feel happy that he had done exactly what he'd sought to do, which was make Arthur feel good and calm him down. At Arthur's whispered praises as they lay there catching their breath, Alfred simply kissed him on the inside of his thigh and let his eyes flutter shut for a few blissful seconds.

He really liked Arthur. One of these days... he swore he was going to tell him so.


	4. Dinner and Dessert

It was 7:00 in the evening when Alfred finished preparing dinner. Their little tryst in Arthur's study had been, while pleasurable, cut short by Arthur actually needing to finish what he had been doing. Though Alfred was sure now he was able to complete it with a clearer head. He left him to do so, more confident that his master wouldn't be sprouting gray hairs and stressing himself out at least for the remainder of the day, and so he felt it safe enough to venture back downstairs and finish with his other duties.

Since he had started preparation so late, he cooked something simple, grilling a few chicken breasts and seasoning them just the way Arthur liked, before preparing freshly sauteed vegetables and chilling a bottle of Arthur's favorite white wine to complement it. He felt pretty satisfied with it, and immediately went over to the small intercom that linked directly to the study and Arthur's bedroom to call him down.

When Arthur found his way downstairs, he looked visibly pleased at the food set before him. Alfred guessed the massage from before had really loosened him up, as Arthur usually pretended to be as disinterested as possible in Alfred's cooking. More awesome points for him then.

Alfred brought him a slice of gourmet cheesecake for dessert that he'd bought from a special bakery in town, since he couldn't really bake himself (and again, neither could Arthur, so his master tended not to complain when his baked goods were store bought), and then brought him his last cup of tea for the evening.

It was anyone's guess how the night would end then. After an entire day of horizontal acrobatics, Alfred wouldn't put up a fight if Arthur wanted another couple of rounds before bed, though he wondered if things would head in that direction. As his master sipped his tea quietly at the table, Alfred started to fidget again, though he tried to be subtle about his unease at the sudden silence that he hadn't noticed before. Arthur wasn't exactly chatty (unless he was lecturing), but something about it felt... different. Perhaps it was the fact that Arthur was staring at him as though he wanted to say something, but it wasn't one of his usual looks. He looked almost... hesitant.

Alfred hoped it wasn't because he was honestly annoyed about being interrupted earlier. Alfred really should have apologized for it, even if Arthur had seemed to enjoy it at the time. He awkwardly cleared his throat and tried to smile, though Arthur's eyes flickered away as soon as he did. Alfred had no idea what that meant, but it bothered him.

The clock struck in the background, and Arthur set the tea cup down with a quiet "clack" before clearing his own throat. Alfred inwardly cringed.

"Alfred."

"Y-Yes? Sir?"

"Come here."

That had been said multiple times to him today alone, but it sounded different from all the others. He ambled forward a bit, not quite sure what was happening. He actually flinched when Arthur gestured at the chair beside the table.

"Sit, lad," Arthur verbalized the command, patting the arm rest while looking away.

Alfred did so, carefully, smoothing his dress down across his lap and peering at Arthur with more than a little worry. Oh god, this was bad. What if he was really in trouble? Or had something happened after Alfred left the study?

He fidgeted some more, until Arthur suddenly looked at him again, and he went stock still.

"There's something I need to discuss with you. If you'll allow me," he murmured, and Alfred actually balked at that. Since when did Arthur have to be _allowed_ to do anything? Alfred was being paid to shut up and listen in the first place-- not that he wouldn't even if he wasn't. His anxiety was increasing by the minute.

"Uh, yeah, of course!"

There was another agonizing pause, and then--

"What do you think of me, Alfred? Really?"

Well wasn't _that_ just the million dollar question. Alfred's cheeks turned every bit as red as that stupid dress he'd worn earlier. How was it that the man could figure out the one thing he'd been asking himself over and over for the last few months, let alone every space of every hour of that day? For some reason it took him by such surprise that he didn't answer, and muttered an intelligent "uh" as if that would suffice.

Arthur sighed in such a way that Alfred looked back up at him with some dismay.

"I see. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Wait, what?" Alfred frowned, not exactly sure where this was going. Arthur's words sounded resigned, but he didn't know what he was resigned about.

Arthur shook his head a bit before clearing his throat once more, straightening himself up in his chair and looking every bit as prim and proper as ever. It annoyed the younger man more than anything at that moment.

"Alfred, I... I believe it would be best if you and I ceased our liaisons. I don't want to fire you, I would never do that to you, but I think as far as proper protocol goes, it would be wise to resume our former, platonic, business relationship."

Alfred's mouth fell open. Surely Arthur couldn't be serious. All of him went pale and he realized his hands were starting to shake. Did Arthur not like him anymore? Had he ever liked him as more than pretty fuck toy he could dress up? Had he just imagined it all because he wanted to? That was it-- all his hopes for telling Arthur his feelings someday, for having something like a real relationship with this man who pretty much already had his heart-- all of it was gone, just like that. And after an awesome day together, he'd been so sure...

He hadn't realized that he'd gone completely silent until Arthur suddenly touched his hand, and he jerked his head up.

"Alfred? Are you quite all right?"

The honest and genuine concern in his voice startled him, and before he could think, he had grabbed onto Arthur's hand. There was no way he could have imagined Arthur caring about him, but he had to be sure that Arthur knew the truth.

"Arthur-- Master, listen-- I'm sorry about before, I didn't mean to piss you off, I shouldn't have touched you like that and bothered you without your permission, you totally, totally should fire me for what I did, but I want you to know that I'm really, honestly sorry and I only did it because I care about you a hell of a lot and it was just--"

Alfred paused to take a breath, not quite noticing that Arthur eyes were steadily growing wider with every word he spoke.

"--I know that you work so hard and it worries me that you don't let yourself kick back and relax, because you definitely deserve that much, and that's what today was, right? But I mean, I wasn't trying to overstep my bounds or push you into something you didn't want or make you do something you wouldn't do with someone who's not even like, your boyfriend or anything, I never, ever want to do that, because like I said I really, really like you and--"

"Alfred, I'm not angry with you. And certainly not about that, heavens no. If I hadn't enjoyed it, I would have thrown you out on the spot."

His mouth snapped shut and he finally let his brain catch up with his mouth, fingers relinquishing the arm rest that he had dug his fingers into subconsciously while rambling like a fool. As soon as he took a moment to breathe, he heard his own words echoing back at him and immediately flushed red again.

 _Well, I guess I don't have to worry about confessing_ , he thought bitterly, wishing he had a nice wall to smack his skull against a few times.

But even as he inwardly kicked himself, he noticed that Arthur didn't look angry or even disgusted. In fact, he looked a little... confused. Lost. Which was certainly how Alfred had felt at the idea of Arthur not wanting to be with him anymore. His eyes weren't quite meeting his, and he started to blush as well, and Alfred thought he looked so fucking cute but after a completely ridiculous, rambling confession, he figured saying anything of the sort _would_ get him promptly thrown out on his ass.

"Is... is it true then?" Arthur asked after a moment, voice so soft, the younger man wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly or about which part he was referring to. But it was fortunate for both of them that he quickly figured it out.

"Yes," Alfred answered without hesitation.

Arthur met his gaze finally, and Alfred had to hang onto the chair again. Arthur was smiling at him so sweetly, that he felt his heart get stuck in his throat, and any other words he could have said were lost to the wind.

"I've thought about this often-- not just today, mind you, but especially today. I was just so certain that you wouldn't feel the same. After all, I forced you to--"

"You didn't force me, I signed a contract."

"Yes, but, I was literally paying you to--"

"I sleep with you because I want to, not because you pay me. The money was for wearing the crazy costumes, right?"

Arthur blushed brighter and Alfred felt himself starting to grin now too.

"Well this is quite unexpected. It's... it's true that I wanted to relax today, but I did plan to spend time with you especially. So that I could tell you the truth. But I never thought you'd respond so favorably."

Alfred shook his head, squeezing Arthur's hand in his own. "It's not... really that weird, right? In fact, I kinda thought my feelings were obvious. I was honestly waiting for you to ask me out, if I didn't do it first. I ain't so cheap that I'd just take it up the ass for anybody like I do for you, you know."

He knew he was slipping into... extremely informal speech, but Arthur didn't seem to mind, though he looked a bit sheepish (and ridiculously pleased) at that last comment. Alfred plunged on, feeling bolder.

"I like you, and... you like me. ... Right?"

The Englishman nodded firmly, smile still soft upon his lips. He looked so very young in that moment, Alfred knew he'd never be able to forget it. He wanted to see more of it. Not that he didn't thoroughly enjoy untamed-dominating-sex-machine!Arthur, but this was wholly different and also something he wanted to treasure.

"I suppose that's settled then," Arthur finally said after a moment, lacing their fingers together. Alfred smiled all the more.

"You're fired."

The American blinked, mouth falling open for the second time now. "W-wait, but--"

"If this is to work, Mr. Jones," Arthur was saying, smile slowly becoming something more recognizable, the 'I'm-going-to-get-what-I-want-everything-else-be-damned', predatory sort of grin that made Alfred shiver and squeeze his legs together a bit, "then we'll have to do it properly. It's simply not proper to date the hired help, wouldn't you say?"

"Er, well..."

Arthur curled a finger under his chin and leaned forward to kiss him, and it may as well have been different from every other kiss they'd ever shared. This time it was for keeps.

Arthur was the first to break it, but he stayed close enough that their lips still brushed as he reached up to cup Alfred's cheek.

"Will you stay with me? Alfred?"

Alfred finally relished the feeling of butterflies and laughed softly. "Yes, sir."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Arthur. _Hell yes_."

\---

Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Alfred wasn't sure how they made it back upstairs, this time only as far as Alfred's room, as it was the closest. It was only slightly smaller than Arthur's really, and it was just right since they were only aiming for the bed anyway. He had made sure to clean Arthur's room and make his bed, as was part of his "maidly duties" (not anymore, he thought with a secretive grin), but sadly his own hadn't looked neat since the day he was hired.

But again, it didn't really matter. As Alfred landed on the soft sheets, Arthur followed right after him, kissing the living daylights out of him as they rutted against one another. It could be said that normally sex between them was almost an art-form-- filthy as it was--but now, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and they were both grasping at each other more than a bit desperately. There was no sense of protocol or hesitancy in their touches. Alfred had thought on it before, but hadn't really tried to put it into words, until now. Things felt different, and it was a wonderful kind of different. The best, really.

He found himself tearing at Arthur's clothes, while the other man focused on kissing at every bit of Alfred he could reach. At the rate they were moving, Alfred was sure they wouldn't make it very far unless they really focused. He managed to roll Arthur over onto his back, startling the Englishman enough that he looked up at him, gaze unfocused but clearly not pleased to be interrupted. Alfred didn't keep him waiting for long however, reaching back to grab the zipper on his dress and easing it off of his shoulders. His former employer stared shamelessly, which was nothing new, but damn if that hot look didn't speak volumes more than before.

"God, you're beautiful," Arthur murmured, making Alfred flush, though he smiled and leaned down to kiss the other man hotly.

"So are you, Arthur," he whispered earnestly against the other's lips, and Arthur moaned a little, lifting his hips and urging him on.

Alfred slipped the dress off the rest of the way and tossed it to the floor, uncaring of where it landed at this point. If he was lucky, he'd never have to wear those horrid things ever again. Well-- they weren't so bad, and he probably would if Arthur asked him to. But he definitely wouldn't if he didn't have to. Now he felt more like himself. Like he could really show Arthur what he'd been holding in for so long. As he peeled off the stockings and garters, Arthur continued to watch him, almost in awe of him. It was amazing that he'd seen Alfred like this hundreds of times, and yet still he could have such an expression.

Once he was naked, he hurriedly divested Arthur of his own clothes, eagerly pressing them together, skin to skin, and relishing the contact. Both of them gasped as their cocks brushed together, and Alfred couldn't help but continue the friction, murmuring Arthur's name against his neck. The other man wrapped his leg around his waist to help, and it was almost too good to stop. They would have continued, had Arthur not paused in their messy kisses to hold Alfred's face in his hands.

"Alfred... I want you."

Alfred paused in his movements, almost unable to believe that Arthur would be asking what he thought he was asking him, and in such a way. Arthur never sounded so pleading before (those times he was drunk still didn't count), and Alfred liked it way too much for it not to be obvious, the words going straight to his cock.

"Are you sure, Arthur?" he asked, brushing his fingers against Arthur's cheek as well, laughing softly when the other blushed at the intimate gesture.

"Yes. I know we don't... well..."

Alfred shook his head and kissed him to quiet him. He didn't need any explanations. He knew and understood Arthur better than the man did himself sometimes, it seemed.

"You don't know how badly I've wanted to fuck you for real, Arthur," he murmured after a moment.

Arthur idly traced a finger down his arm. "I believe it was rather obvious, considering your actions earlier."

Alfred realized he was never going to live that down.

"It's not that I didn't want to. I've always wanted you to, really. But I wanted to admit my feelings first..."

"That's pretty romantic of you, Arthur. Heh, you're all shy and hesitant now. It's really cute," he said, laughing a bit more when Arthur blushed harder and tried to glare, though it was rendered ineffective almost immediately.

"Hold your tongue, boy. If you're only going to make fun..."

"Not at all, _Master_ Arthur."

Arthur started to smile again at that, reluctantly, and pulled him down to attack his mouth again, apparently deciding that they'd done enough talking for one evening, and Alfred had to agree. He let him plunder his mouth with his tongue, while his hands coaxed Arthur's hips further apart, gliding his palm over the head of the other man's cock, swallowing his moans as he began to stroke him.

He then started to kiss his way down his body, worshiping the skin with lips and tongue and reveling in every gasp and moan he drew forth. As he drew nearer to what he wanted, he heard Arthur mumble something incoherent, before a breathless "wait" stopped him in his tracks.

"I demand that you... let me enjoy myself as well. Let me see your cock," he said when Alfred looked up at him in question.

"Oh really? I thought I wasn't obligated to take orders from you anymore?" Alfred asked with a grin. Arthur narrowed his eyes sexily.

"Turn around before I _make_ you."

Well _fuck_. Alfred wasn't going to argue with that, gainfully employed or not. He turned around, mouth still hovering over Arthur's cock, but dangling his own in Arthur's face and not feeling an ounce of shame or embarrassment. Clearly Arthur felt none either, swirling his tongue over the head of Alfred's member with the same luster and precision as always, and Alfred floundered a bit, groaning eagerly before dipping his head to finish what he'd started.

When he felt Arthur moaning around his cock, he could only suck harder, faster, pulling up to let saliva drip down the sides before slurping it back into his mouth, keeping his hands on Arthur's trembling hips beneath him. Meanwhile Arthur had gripped him at the base, and was pumping him faster and faster in time with the delightful suction, and both of them were coming undone in no time at all.

At the very last possible moment, Alfred deep-throated him, and Arthur's gasp and moan was the most delicious thing he'd ever heard to date. As hot cum splashed against the back of his throat, he felt Arthur still stroking, albeit weakly, but unable to do much else. After a powerful orgasm like that, Alfred didn't blame him one bit. He swallowed and licked his lips as he sat up, turning around again to grab hold of the other's legs and pull him towards him.

Arthur's ensuing gasp was swallowed up by Alfred's kiss as he deliberately ground his still hard cock against him, a pantomime of what he planned to do to that lovely ass very soon. He kept it up a bit longer, watching the expression of desire and frustration flicker across Arthur's face before he flipped him over with a smirk and wordlessly reached over to dip his fingers in the jar of sweet smelling lubricant he kept on his bedside table. All for those quiet nights when he'd be dreaming of doing exactly this.

Dragging his finger down between his ass cheeks, he gave them a small slap, making Arthur groan appreciatively. He wanted to keep doing it, citing revenge for all those times Arthur had spanked him (none of which he ever regretted), but there would be time for that later. For now, he need to get Arthur hard again. He slipped the hand between the other man's thighs, fingers slick and wet as he smeared it all over his skin.

"Arthur, squeeze your legs together for me."

Arthur complied, clearly knowing what was coming. He flashed a hot look over his shoulder, making Alfred lick his lips subconsciously as he rubbed between those delicious thighs. Arthur had done this to him before, and he remembered how much they had enjoyed it. It'd be nice to return the favor. Grabbing the smaller man by the hips, he pulled him up and back, slipping his dick right between them. It felt heavenly.

Then he leaned over him, pushing in and out of the tight space and whispering in Arthur's ear all the dirtiest possible things he could think of, many of them the same things Arthur had promised him just that morning. All about how he was going to fuck him, fill him with his cock and his seed, just like Arthur had all those times before. About how he had imagined this, night after night. How he wanted Arthur to dress up next time, see how he liked it when Alfred hitched his former master's skirts up and took him over every piece of furniture in the house. Every lewd promise and suggestion was punctuated by thrusts that rubbed his cock deliciously over Arthur's ass and thighs, and he couldn't help but grin lasciviously as Arthur was perfectly hard all over again, moaning loudly over and over into the pillows. He reached over to scoop a bit more of the lubricant onto his eager fingers.

"Bloody-- Alfred, please...!" Arthur groaned desperately, which turned into a breathless cry as Alfred slipped a hand between them to rub his finger over his hole.

"Wow, 'please'? So polite of you, Artie," Alfred teased, knowing he was being a bastard and loving it. He wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer however, his own cock aching almost painfully.

"Fuck me right now, boy, or must I relieve you of your position again? You'll recall I'm quite good at that," Arthur hissed, and attempted to give him quite the formidable glare, to which Alfred responded by slipping his fingers inside with a smile. Anything to distract the other from such a threat--though Alfred _probably_ wouldn't complain if it happened that way. Okay, he wouldn't complain at all, but that was totally not the point.

"You're right, Artie. You're damn good at it... Maybe after this round, hm?" And dear god, he meant it. Arthur seemed more than a little placated by that comment as well.

He wasted no more time in stretching him, seeking, finding what he had found earlier and moaning along with Arthur as he struck that spot a couple of times, drawing it out until he pulled back and flipped Arthur back over.

"I'm not a bloody rag doll--"

"That's karma, sweetheart," he commented with a smirk, and Arthur flushed, probably at the insinuation (because dammit, it's not like Alfred hadn't gotten tossed around all the time) and the endearment, which was just as well. "Besides, I want to see your face."

Arthur blushed harder and simply rocked against him as a pointed reminder. Alfred kissed him before he aligned himself properly.

As he pushed in, he could swear they both saw stars. Which was ridiculously sappy and almost too gross and sappy for Alfred to handle, but it was the truth. Somehow, none of the other times came close to this, in all their passion and pleasure, because Arthur was looking up at him, really looking at him. Like he trusted him. Like he wanted nothing more than this. Like he...

"I love you..." Alfred breathed as he sunk in to the hilt, and Arthur took a shuddering breath and met his gaze with a soft look as he whispered 'I love you too'.

He fucked him with abandon, hips snapping up against the older man's slippery backside and grunting with every thrust. And Arthur met every one, switching between pleasured gasps and curses, scratching his blunt nails down Alfred's shoulders and back. The minute bit of pain felt so damned good, it only made him groan louder, his former employer's name spilling from his lips uncontrollably as he lost himself to his movements and the heat and friction.

He wasn't surprised he came first, and Arthur cooed in his ear until Alfred wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke him desperately in time with his thrusts that hadn't lost their momentum in the least. By then Arthur was biting his lip to hold back screams, and Alfred couldn't have that. Flashing the older man another smirk, he lifted his legs up higher into the air, adjusting the angle perfectly for hitting that sweet spot that made Arthur turn to jelly.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god..." Arthur chanted, looking as though he were about to weep. "Don't stop... don't ever stop--!"

"Never," Alfred whispered hotly in his ear, and Arthur tensed with a loud moan as he came, all over his own chest and Alfred's. Both of them rode it out until Alfred lowered him gently back to the bed. He collapsed beside him, panting as though he'd just run a marathon. Of all the great, amazing, mind-blowing, ridiculously kinky sex he'd had with this man... that had to be the best. And not because he'd topped.

"Don't worry," Arthur murmured suddenly, and Alfred blinked, not realizing he'd spoken his thoughts aloud, but started to grin at the devilish look his former master was giving him as he rolled onto his chest and came close to brush their lips together.

"It can only get better from here, pet."

Alfred would have worked as a maid for the rest of his life just to be with Arthur. Even now that he didn't have to, he couldn't think of anything better than making Arthur Kirkland the happiest man alive. And that's exactly what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that, hah. Thanks for reading. <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Missing Bathtub Scene](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582187) by [PaolaWarbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaolaWarbler/pseuds/PaolaWarbler)




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